Mary sighed: she did so miss morning service at the cathedral and this was an unmissable chance of an extra day off; an excuse for calling on the artist Emil to collect her overdue rent.
‘Even on Sunday?’ said Faro, but she refused to be shocked by his admonishing tone.
‘I’ll look in on some of the neighbours, have a cup of tea with them.’
And no doubt, thought Faro, she would be eagerly received for the latest gossip about Scarthbreck’s owners and the posters of the missing girl displayed everywhere.
As they made their way into the cathedral, she did not have to go in search of Emil Latour. He was there already seated in an adjoining pew. He bowed cordially.
‘Strange, seeing him here,’ she whispered to Faro. ‘I thought he’d be a Catholic, that crucifix in the bedroom and everything.’
The sermon seemed longer than any Faro remembered. Over at last, the congregation stood for the last hymn. The procession of choir and ministers moved towards the nave, and as the worshippers filed out, among them were Faro and prizefighter Willy, who edged closer to the pillar.
There was no movement towards the pew and as the cathedral emptied, Stavely rushed over. Regardless of holy ground, he cursed softly. Their wait and their preparations had been in vain. The packet was still there. Their plan foiled.
They exchanged glances. The kidnapper must have guessed, or been warned in advance.
At least Mary Faro’s visit had not been in vain. Emil had awaited her outside and had handed over his monthly rent with sincere apologies.
‘Wasn’t that thoughtful? Nice chap,’ said Mary. ‘He has invited me to have luncheon with him.’
She sounded delighted. ‘I might as well seize the chance of such a nice invitation. Not often I get a Sunday off.’
‘How will you get back?’
‘Don’t worry about me, dear. Mistress Blake’s man has the local stable. He’ll see me right.’
Kissing her and telling her to take care, advising the Scarthbreck coachman where to wait for him, he hurried towards a side entrance of the cathedral where Stavely, having dismissed the constables, including Faro’s colleague, was pretending to examine the tombstones, anxious to escape to a family Sunday dinner: an afternoon with Lily and the children, and in particular some carefully phrased questioning regarding any dubious activities of his wayward son.
‘There’s nothing to be gained by lingering, Faro,’ he said shortly. ‘Our man must have guessed. We’ll have to think of something else. Go back and tell Sir Arnold – he won’t be best pleased. Take the carriage.’
‘I think I’ll remain here for a while longer.’
Somewhere a clock struck the hour. Stavely stared at him. ‘Please yourself, lad, but it’s a waste of time.’
‘Nevertheless, just an idea, Sergeant.’ He shook his head. ‘Maybe we’re looking for the wrong person.’
Stavely regarded him sternly. ‘Well, you’re on your own; if there’s a fight, you’re not armed, remember.’
‘I’ll survive, without a gun.’
Stavely shook his head and repeated, ‘A complete waste of time.’ And with a contemptuous shrug, watching Faro vanish into the side door of the now-empty cathedral, strode briskly homewards.
Taking up a position concealed by the pillar near the pew, Faro prepared to wait, aware that he was taking a gamble, but his instinct had never failed him, nor had his remarkable memory.
He had made careful notes, right back to the fatal night of Celia’s disappearance. The curious fact that Celia had vanished into thin air without her clothes; why? And more important, how?
Certain that she had not gone into the sea, or that any boat would have risked the dangers of such a fog to collect her at the fragile Scarthbreck landing, and certain that she had not taken refuge in the nearest croft, which was Hal’s, where Stavely would have found her, he thought she could have returned to pick up Blossom. But the mare had never left the stable.
If not by sea, then the only other exit from the area would be heading in the direction of Stromness and Kirkwall, but the hiring stable at Spanish Cove had verified that no young woman came in that night. For Faro’s benefit, the stableman had described the elderly gentleman who had booked a gig, and the young man who had hired a horse. He had watched them each leave, and checked that the equipages and the horse were duly paid for, and as was the custom, had been returned safely from the Kirkwall stable.
Second on Faro’s list, the handwriting on the ransom note, and the terrifying implications suggested by Lady Millicent that Celia had been forced to write it, with a pistol held at her head by her kidnapper.
Thirdly, and perhaps most revealing, were details of his interesting conversation with Gerald Binsley which had revealed clues previously overlooked.
Finally, the foiled pickup of the ransom this morning. As Faro sat patiently in the empty cathedral, he knew he was staking all on a remote possibility, the discovery of the kidnapper’s identity.
The minutes passed slowly, a clock chimed a half-hour, and another. He was cold and hungry. Observation and deduction had failed him, he had almost given up and was about to leave, when the sound of a door opening echoed unnaturally loud through the empty cathedral.
Footsteps approaching, he braced himself to confront Celia Prentiss-Grant’s kidnapper.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The footsteps were of the youth from the family with the unruly children who had been seated nearest to the pillar. Attired in shirt and breeches, he did not even look round. Unaware of Faro’s hidden presence, bending down he began a search underneath the pew.
‘Can I assist you?’
The lad jumped up and faced Faro. ‘You startled me, sir.’ His hands were trembling. ‘I-I was looking for … for something that Mamma left behind.’
In reply, Faro held out the packet. ‘Would this perhaps be—?’
He got no further before the youth jumped forward and seized the envelope. ‘Thank you, thank—’ then shaking it, ‘But it is—’
A bewildered angry glance and Faro smiled. ‘Empty. Yes, that is so.’ As he said the words the youth turned quickly but the narrowness of the pew put a stop to his flight.
Faro seized his arm in a firm grip. He struggled to free himself, pounding his fists against Faro’s chest. ‘Let me go, sir – this instant.’
‘In a moment – after we have had a little talk.’
‘I have nothing to say to you.’
Faro laughed. ‘Oh, I think you have a great deal to say to me. Is that not so? Surely you realise that gentlemen remove their head coverings in church. Allow me.’ And so saying, he reached out and snatched off the woollen bonnet. A cloud of curls sprang from their confinement.
‘Ah, Miss Celia, we meet once again.’
‘You – you devil! How dare you! Release me at once.’
‘No point in being high and mighty with me, miss. You are in a very dangerous situation – you could go to jail.’
She stared at him, biting her lip. ‘What nonsense. Of course I can’t go to jail. I haven’t – I haven’t hurt anyone,’ she added doubtfully.
‘Maybe not.’
‘I just wanted to get away. A practical joke, that’s all.’
Faro shook his head. ‘You have created a criminal act of deception which had the whole constabulary out combing the shore near Scarthbreck, posters distributed everywhere and the whole of the island looking for you. Don’t you think that is quite enough criminal activity, to say nothing of the distress and anguish you have caused to your parents?’
‘I’m not sorry for them,’ she said. ‘Now may I go?’
‘And where to, might I ask?’
‘I shall leave the island – leave everyone.’ A stifled sob as she attempted to shake off his restraining hold. ‘Please let me go.’
‘In a moment. Now sit down and listen.’
‘I will not. You cannot make me.’
‘Very well. But first of all, let me assure you that it will b
e better for you and for all concerned if you will sit down – here, in this quiet place where we are unlikely to be disturbed – and tell me the story, right from the beginning.’
She looked at him doubtfully. Removing his hand from her arm, he said gently, ‘Do sit down, miss.’
Suddenly tears started. ‘They wanted to marry me off and I wasn’t going to stand for that – like a package auctioned to the highest bidder. Not likely. I had my own plans.’ Her expression softened.
‘Which were?’
‘I had met someone – here, before we left for London. We were in love and I believed …’ a shadow crossed her face. ‘I believed truly that we would be together always and that I could persuade my parents to see that was best for me. There was a terrible row – threats – they were going to lock me in my room. I had to escape, so I stole some money out of Pappa’s desk. I knew all about the ships for Orkney, we often travelled that way.’
She paused and Faro asked, ‘What happened when you arrived, after we walked on the shore together?’
She laughed softly. ‘I had it all worked out. I knew about the seal king legend, I’d been fascinated by it as a child. The maids used to tell me, especially about that local woman, Thora somebody, who had been taken by him and survived, and returned after a year and a day.’
She gave a romantic sigh. ‘It gave me an idea – I would make it look as if that had happened to me, give them something more important to worry about than finding me a husband,’ she added contemptuously. ‘I wore … these,’ she said, indicating breeches and shirt. ‘Easy to conceal under a loose gown and my winter cloak. I was grateful for that heavy mist, I can tell you. I walked back to Spanish Cove, hired a horse and rode into …’
‘Kirkwall,’ Faro prompted, remembering the description of the youth and the destination given by the stableman.
She gave him a sharp glance as he added, ‘That is where your lover lives, is it not?’
Her eyes widened, then tearfully she groaned, ‘Not is – was! Oh, he seemed delighted to see me but after … after that first night together, when I talked about our plans for the future – I’m not a fool. I had a feeling that marriage was not in his mind. Excuses in plenty: yes, he adored me, but surely I could see that he was too poor to support a wife as well as his invalid brother.’
Faro now knew the identity of this lover, Amos Flett. He was not particularly surprised considering the ferryman’s reputation with the island women of which poor, misguided Celia had been quite unaware.
‘If it was only money,’ she continued, ‘then that could be solved. I have a very rich father. So I got this brilliant plan, pretending I had been kidnapped and sending a ransom note. A thousand pounds was an absolute fortune, we could leave the island, start afresh and live happily ever after.’
She crumpled the empty envelope in her hand. ‘Even if it didn’t change his mind about marrying me, I was going to take it anyway. It could change my whole life.’
‘You would never have got away with it, miss, not once it was under investigation by the police. Kidnapping is a crime, the penalties could be hanging or transportation.’
She looked scared. ‘Surely not if it wasn’t serious – as I told you – just a joke.’
Faro shook his head. ‘No joke, miss. In plain words, you were stealing, obtaining money by false pretences.’
‘Rubbish! It couldn’t be stealing – from my own father.’
Faro nodded. ‘Oh yes, it could. It is still a crime, once the police are involved. You and your lover could both go to jail. Hanging or transportation, remember.’
‘But A—’ she stopped, and put a hand to her mouth.
‘Amos is his name, am I correct?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘But Amos is innocent. He knew nothing of this—’
‘A moment – did your parents know his identity?’
‘Of course not. I wasn’t going to tell them. They wanted to know, but I’m not an idiot – my father would have moved heaven and earth to remove him; he can be quite ruthless.’
Her words confirmed Faro’s suspicions that the Prentiss-Grants knew more than they pretended about her reason for returning to Orkney: that, as he and Stavely also suspected, a man was involved. He said, ‘Please continue.’
‘A-Amos was taken aback – shocked – at what I had planned. When he saw the posters, then he panicked, and when I told him about my brilliant idea involving the ransom note I’d sent, he almost threw me out of the house.’ Tearfully, she turned to Faro, ‘What am I going to do?’
‘First of all, your father’s carriage is still waiting outside the local public house, to take you back to Scarthbreck.’
‘Oh no!’ she protested, springing to her feet.
‘Oh yes, miss. You must face your parents.’
‘They’ll be furious. They have never forgiven me for not being a boy, you know. They desperately needed a son and heir.’
‘I am sure you are wrong and that they love you.’
She shook her head. ‘Oh, you don’t know them. They will never forgive this …’
‘They will be angry, but all will be forgiven in the relief of having you back home again. And Gerald will be delighted too—’
‘Gerald?’ Smiling, she clasped her hands delightedly. ‘Is dear Gerald here too?’
‘Indeed, he is. Came post-haste to help search for you.’
‘Oh, that was kind!’
‘He is very fond of you, and I am sure he will put in a good word for you.’
Her face softened again. ‘Yes, he is kind, the one person who understands me. If only my parents hadn’t been so determined when the wretched men they put in my way were horrible; they decided that I should marry Gerald. He proposed to me – they put him up to it. A last resort, after all those years of being my good friend. I couldn’t believe it. I was disgusted.’
‘I rather think it was his own idea, not your parents’, although they would have approved.’
‘It was the last straw.’
They were walking towards the entrance. At the door Faro said, ‘May I suggest you replace the woollen cap, and hide your hair?’
As she did so, he added, ‘A necessary precaution. I’m sure you don’t want to attract attention and curious stares – a girl in a man’s shirt and breeches, among Kirkwall’s Sunday afternoon strollers.’
‘Over here.’ He led the way to the Lamb & Flag, where Tom, sitting at the window, quickly downed his ale and rushed out. His eyes wide in astonishment, he bowed as Faro handed her into the carriage. ‘To the police station, if you please—’
She gave him an angry glance, pushed open the door and tried to leap out. ‘You promised – you promised.’
Hauling her back as she wriggled in vain, he shouted to the driver, ‘And then to Scarthbreck! Let me finish, miss, if you please. I have to let Sergeant Stavely know that Miss Celia has been found.’ As they stopped, he said, ‘Hand this in, if you please, Tom,’ and hastily scribbled a note for Stavely to come to Scarthbreck immediately.
Tom returned, averting his eyes from the young mistress, and Celia said wearily to Faro, ‘You can remove your hand from my arm now, Constable. I won’t run away.’
Faro smiled at her. ‘I wish I could be sure of that. Maybe I should have requested a pair of handcuffs at the police station.’
As they drove towards Stromness, she said, ‘I won’t be sorry to leave that awful house. I was always hungry.’
Faro smiled. ‘Not quite what you were used to.’
She shuddered. ‘Not in the least. I am not sure, now that I have come to my senses and am quite safely out of being madly in love, that I could have ever endured life in such a house. Always untidy, it even smelt rather dark and dreary. And I was expected to feed them both, cook for them. What an idea!
‘I haven’t the least notion about preparing meals, it has always been done for me. And then there was that brother of his. I was told that he was an invalid. He didn’t seem to care for my pre
sence, either, and always tried to avoid me. Never spoke a word.’
Faro had a vivid picture of Thora and Josh Flett and that lover-like meeting in the cathedral as she continued, ‘Such ill manners, too. Never rose to his feet like a gentleman when I entered the room, just kept on huddled up by the fireplace as if it was a cold day, with his bonnet pulled down well over his eyes.’
She shook her head. ‘Of course, I was sorry for him, knowing how ill he was and that making an effort to be polite was too much for him. He seemed much more lively at night, though. After I retired I used to hear them laughing and talking together – and I suspected that the whisky bottle was much in evidence.’
As they drove through Spanish Cove, she turned to Faro and smiled sadly, ‘You have been so kind to me. You are a strange policeman. When we first met that night – just a few days, seems such a long time ago,’ she added with a shudder, ‘even then, you never seemed a stranger …’
She paused, a bewildered shrug, then she smiled, placing a hand on his arm. ‘I have absolute trust in you, Constable, and whatever happens over there – at home – I’ll always be grateful to you for listening to me. And I am sure you will do your very best to save me being sent to jail.’
A frowning maid opened the door to Constable Faro accompanied by a youth. Uncertain whether to admit them or not, shocked by the lad’s somewhat scruffy attire, she clearly did not recognise her esteemed young mistress.
Celia suppressed a giggle and swept a manly bow to the astonished maid who said, ‘I will see if Sir Arnold is at home.’
‘No need. He is expecting us,’ she said, striding towards the drawing room where faint voices could be distinguished.
The maid scuttled ahead, throwing open the door. ‘Constable Faro here, sir, with … with … a gentleman.’
Celia marched in, and stood facing her parents. Sir Arnold rose to his feet, darting an angry glance at Faro. ‘Another claimant, is this?’
‘Not at all, Father.’ And Celia took off the bonnet and shook free her curls.
‘Celia!’ her mother screamed. ‘You are wearing breeches!’ She promptly fell back in her chair, and in the consternation that followed no one even considered producing the required smelling salts.
The Seal King Murders Page 15
